


Shelter

by AnselaJonla



Series: Shelter [1]
Category: Zombies Run!
Genre: Gen, Gender-Neutral Runner Five, POV First Person
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-15
Updated: 2020-03-15
Packaged: 2021-03-01 04:46:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,242
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23149492
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnselaJonla/pseuds/AnselaJonla
Summary: Five is caught out alone in a bad winter storm.
Series: Shelter [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1678132
Comments: 1
Kudos: 21





	Shelter

**Author's Note:**

> This was smashed out in half an hour while slightly tipsy. It has been proofread by no one. Read at your own peril.

I stagger sideways as another gust of wind batters against my frame. This weather is absolutely _vile_ , and so sudden. This morning, when I set off from Abel with Sara and Jody, the skies had been gorgeously clear and bright, and the temperature just perfect for running in. Of course Sara had sniffed the air and declared that a storm was incoming. Why did she _always_ have to be right?

Now I’m alone, battling against wind that’s threatening to literally blow me off my feet, and blinded by rain coming down so heavily I can barely see a foot in front of me. I’m not sure if my comms are down, or if I just can’t hear them over the howling gale, and I have absolutely no clue _where_ my partners are.

I lost them at the brook. Normally a placid little thing, half the width of the gully it flows through, today it’s a raging monster. I made it over the bridge, but before the other two could join me a large branch swept downstream and utterly demolished the flimsy structure.

Sara waved me on, yelling something that I _hope_ was encouragement and faith in my navigation abilities to find my way back to Abel alone.

I scoff at the mere thought. Sara is the only one of us that’s ever been out in this direction before. We’d been relying on her knowledge once we passed beyond Sam’s camera range, and without that… well, there’s a reason no one ever gives _me_ a map and asks me to plot a course. Even Sam isn’t that optimistic.

The wind whips up again, this time slamming me into something unexpectedly solid. I reach out, and grasp at it. It’s a wall, like you’d find around a garden. I grip onto it, and move along hand over hand. Where there’s a garden there’s usually a house. There isn’t, according to Sara, anyone _living_ in this area, but if I can get inside then I’ll have some shelter until this storm passes. I hope.

My hands find cold, wet metal. A gate! I push it open, wincing at the loud squeal. If there are any zombies around, that just told them where I am. Then again, if the rumours are true, zombies don’t hunt in the rain. I can’t really say I blame them myself.

I somehow manage to stagger across the garden. The wind is _really_ pushing at me. I hope the other two have found somewhere to shelter. This storm is getting dangerous.

The door isn’t locked! That’s a bonus. I glance around for a weapon as I push it open. We were running light, relying on speed and Sara’s pistol for protection. And from the noise Janine made when Sara started shooting, I don’t think we were exactly _meant_ to have that. At least she wasn’t aiming in my direction this time.

A poker by the fire is the best I can find, and I keep it raised as I check the rest of the downstairs rooms. They’re all empty, which is good. Still, there’s always upstairs. Sometimes people locked infected family members in a room with a sturdy door, hoping for a cure or unwilling to do what was necessary, and the doors in this place are _definitely_ on the solid side.

One door has been destroyed upstairs. From the inside. But there’s no sign of what was trapped behind it. Or, for that matter, of any recent occupation. Thick dust layers every surface, and I can feel my nose wrinkle as I disturb it.

Still, I need to do some disturbance. First off is securing that door. The back door is locked already, so I just need to worry about the front. I can’t find a key in any of the places that _I_ would hide one, so I’ve got to find another way.

Moving one of the sofas is out of the question. They are way too heavy. Oh, don’t get me wrong, I _could_ move them, but I’d risk doing myself an injury, and that’s just a bad idea this far from Abel. I wouldn’t put it past Janine to write me off if I couldn’t run back under my own power. But the armchair is smaller, and more importantly it will actually fit through the door.

With the armchair firmly against the back of the door, and bits of cardboard jammed in several points of the frame just for added security (a measure repeated at the back door), I feel a bit more secure. It’s not _perfect_ , and it’s definitely not as safe as Abel with its walls and sharpshooters, but it’s better than being in that horrible storm.

Now that I’m inside I think I can actually feel my fingers and toes again. I can also feel just how wet _everything_ I’m wearing is. Even my undercrackers are sopping, and not in a good way. Hopefully there’s something to wear in this house that’s somewhat close to my size.

Half an hour later I’m curled up on a sofa, wrapped in a dressing gown and a duvet, and some comfortable pyjamas. My own clothes are hanging in front of the fire I’ve started in the fireplace, next to where I found the poker.

I’m poking at my headset. The stupid thing has _never_ worked right, if I’m honest. Its ability to send as well as receive is intermittent, so Sam doesn’t always hear what I’m saying on missions. But now I think it’s totally fucked, to put it technically. No matter which way I press the power button or for how long, it refuses to light up. Maybe it got fried by the rain? I guess I’m totally out of contact with Abel then.

Oh dear. Getting back is going to be Fun.

The storm doesn’t seem as bad now, really. Sure the howling gale is still going, rattling the doors and window panes constantly, but when you’re inside you can just… appreciate it, I guess. The constant patter of the rain on the windows and roof is soothing. I shift my weight, stretching my legs along the length of the sofa.

Just a few minutes’ kip won’t hurt. I’m so tired.

\----

“Y’know, Five, blocking the door only works if you actually wake up when someone tries to get in.”

Huh? What?

“Nice reflexes at least.”

Oops… I realise that my first instinct was to grab the poker lying by my outstretched hand and swing at the knees of the person standing over me.

At Sara.

It’s probably a good thing I didn’t connect.

“How many times have I told you to _go for the head_?”

I mumble a response as I work on disentangling myself from the duvet. Jody is rekindling my fire, and has taken my now-dry clothes down from over it.

“Nice little place you’ve found for us here at least. Don’t worry, we’ve reblocked the door. We’ll shelter here for the rest of the storm. Since you’ve had a nap, you can have first watch. Wake one of us in a few hours would you?”

A short time later I’m the only one awake. Two more sets of clothes hang where mine were, and both of my running partners are comfortable on the sofas, snoring away like chainsaws.

I guess I better look at what food is still good in the kitchen. We’re probably stuck here until this stupid storm ends.

Joy.


End file.
